


Talented Defeat

by Hekat



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Colors, Derealization, Disappointment, Disordered, Dissociation, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Not Happy, Quiet, Shapes, Shapeshifting, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekat/pseuds/Hekat
Summary: Skeppy edits a video.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 11
Kudos: 156





	Talented Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for anything that upsets you when reading this! The thought process was based on Skeppy's breakdown on stream, and his personality we see in his videos.

It was another mundane day, Skeppy finished editing one of his videos where he gave away a thousand dollars. He found tiny details like the challenge or his partner to be irrelevant, he just wanted to get it done, just to get his check handed to him on a silver platter. He watched the Minecraft loading screen scroll through the new nether as he heard the analog clock over his head tick. He suddenly grew bored with nothing to do, his fingers were twitching in anticipation, itching to do anything that would give him the fresh rush of adrenaline.

Skeppy heard a buzzing noise from his Discord. He checked his phone, seeing the words “BadBoyhalo.”

“Hmph… I wonder who this could be.” He sighed sarcastically as he put the phone near his ear, tapping the green button that would allow him to join the call with his compadre.

“Hey Skeppy! How’s the video editing going?” BadBoyhalo said enthusiastically, each word felt like a soft fluttering pillow, soft and easily huggable. Skeppy had a small smile on his face, not the shining smiles he’d force during live-streams and videos; an actually soft-hearted smile.

“Just finished it… Man does Skeppies keep winning…” He joked, he knew of the whole fiasco regarding Skeppies and his inconceivable luck. All the fans wanted to know about Skeppy’s point of view on the situation, and he knew the comments would blow up with nine year old's screeching about how he could’ve cheated. In reality, Skeppy really didn’t care about anything regarding the prizes. He had tons of money in his account that he uses for cheap booze and other extravagant getaways.

“Haha… Yeah. Fans are gonna get on us for that!” BadBoyhalo agreed, his voice so chipper; in contrast with the dullness in Skeppy’s monotone flow. 

BadBoyhalo kept on speaking, but Skeppy couldn’t hear him. He felt his voice drowned out as he kept getting thoughts about hanging out with him, whether it be a tea party, playing on the swings, or even getting lost on a walk. He longed to just be next to his friend, or so he thought he was his friend anyways.

_ “Is he my friend..?”  _ Skeppy asked in his head, he didn’t know the answer. Even though it would be an obvious yes, he kept having second thoughts rampaging in his mind. He pondered why they haven’t hung out, or why they never called besides for pranks and videos. 

_ “The pranks…”  _ Skeppy said out loud, without feeling the control to shut it. He noticed something from BadBoyhalo, from the little hints in his videos, to his streams. Even though he didn’t tell him outright, he knew what was going with him. He had mental breakdowns from time to time on stream, outbursts of audible tears and pants of frustration. He felt him give up tons of times. Skeppy never knew what to say when he first heard him cry, he didn’t want the bullying to continue, but also not at the cost of his fan-base. 

Skeppy kept a blind eye, making excuses to himself. He thought how BadBoyhalo should’ve toughened up, or muted to chat. How he might’ve been faking it in his persona. Those were all deliberate lies he told himself everyday to make himself seem like a good person. He wanted to feel like he was helping him, even though deep down he was only helping himself get further from his demons.

**Every second he was standing still, they emerged closer than ever.**

“Skeppy? Skeppy..?” BadBoyhalo kept calling out, suddenly getting Skeppy out of his dissociative gaze. He finally snapped out of it.

“Y-yeah?” He stammered, trying to get a hold of himself. He tried calming down silently so that BadBoyhalo wouldn’t question anything. The last thing that he wanted was for his friend to be worried about anything other than his declining mental health.

“Heh, I’ve been calling your name for 3 minutes, you good silly muffin?” Badboyhalo said, hoping for a response instead of Skeppy blanking out again. He felt worried about Skeppy’s distancing, how he felt like he didn’t want to be around him anymore, but he kept thinking of it as social burnout.

“Hey uh, Bad… We’re friends right?” Skeppy blurted out awkwardly, he felt his cheeks grow bright red the second he finished his question. It wasn’t a blush that indicated him having a crush, but more of regret and fear of the future reply he could get.

“Huh..? What do you mean?” BadBoyhalo answered with his own question. Skeppy winced as he couldn’t think of anything to say, anything to get off of his chest. He found it in his personal best interest to stay quiet until Bad answered the question.

“Well uh… wait… now? I.. okay… Sorry Skeppy, have to go real quick. I’ll call you back, okay?” BadBoyhalo said, flustered, having to deal with an emergency. 

“Okay. See ya!” Skeppy said a smile on his face, his natural grin emerging from each side of his tear stained lips. His teeth shined white, not of happiness, but as a cry for help. 

He ended the call with Bad, his frown instantly dropping his facade. He felt a wave of sadness, as if his social battery had run out of juice, juice that filled him with the will to go on. He started to get off his chair, trying to walk through the corridor towards his bedroom. The corridor felt long, fleshy, grey with monotony, it felt devoid of life, living with void. 

Someday, Skeppy didn’t feel like he was trapped in a world filled with freedom, he felt free in a domain of enslavement. His delusions kept getting worse. He kept hearing voices of his friends spouting hateful words, or his family shedding disappointment. 

He saw his trophies filled with accomplishment. He saw the gold coating fade and tear to white. His precious psyche, like his trophies, were nothing more but pyrite; fools gold.

He didn’t even know what he had anymore. Impostor syndrome? Fraud syndrome? No. He just felt like a piece of shit. He knew it deep down, hearing his friends spout things about him and his pranks, he knew that they would never say it to him directly; he just knew it.

He laid down in his bed. Time didn’t feel like a concept anymore, it just felt like an oddity disguised in many other oddities. He wanted to sleep, but his ever increasing insomnia held him back, as if they forced his eyes open. He clutched his body tight, feeling the breaths of mediocrity folding upon himself, the burdens expanding on his responsibilities. He tried to keep track of his breaths, grasping for what control he had left. He was grasping at straws, strings of puppeteers that jeered and scoffed at his agony. His breathing worsening, his lungs getting ever more deprived of oxygen.

  
  
  
  


**Soon, he felt limp.**

**He couldn’t inhale anymore.**

**He couldn’t exhale anymore.**

  
  
  
  


He was a fraud.

He would always be one.

**̵̢̢̡̢̢̢̡̢̧̨̨̨̻̗͚̮̫͇̣̻͎͔͉̬̜̺͖̦̞͍̯̺̺̪̜͇̱̥͍̞͔͔͇̯͎̣̦͕̯̼̠͙͔̘̗͖̲̪̠̩̫̞̘̼͙̩̹͕̙͓͉̠͈̝͓̩̤͍̱͉̟̱̭̈́͋̄̈́̒̐̓̒͊̒͆̎̐̑̋̋͆̈́̑̐́̿̈́̐̈͊̒̏͐͌̏̄̂̓̈̄̆̋̄̓͊̋̉̒̿̒̂͌̓̄̕̕͘̕̚͘͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ**

  
  
  



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